Soulless
by batbynight
Summary: Petals Low has been to several planets before coming to Earth, and he has decided that he likes Earth the most. Only, his Host's voice is always in the back of his head and he isn't sure he minds so much...
1. Chapter 1

_**The Host**_** is owned by Stephenie Meyer. Sadly, not by me. I wish I did, though.**

_Why… are you in my head…? _The voice thought, though it was only a whisper. Petals Low sat up in bed, blinking. He was not the only one in this—_his_—head. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be alone.

"This is my head now," he muttered, "So whoever you are, get out." The voice said nothing else, though for some reason this was more bothersome than if it had spoken again. Did he truly have company in this body—was the old inhabitant still conscious? Or was he simply hallucinating that they were because of all the warnings he was given after coming to this world?

This was Petals Low's third world. He'd come from the Origin, where he stayed for hardly an hour before he traveled to the Spider World for three lifetimes and then on to the Flower World for one. He'd never really found his favorite; he was sort of hoping he'd find a home in this one. The Human World. Earth.

_Why are you in my head…?_

"It's _my_ head now," Petals Low said, voice as stiff as his muscles, "So get out of it."

_You get out. It was my head first._

"Oh, yes, very mature. But you see, that's not how this works. This is my body now. My body, my mind. So get out, and stay out," Petals Low growled under his breath.

_But I don't want to. I was here first!_

"Well I'm here _now_!" Petals Low said, "Who are you, anyway?"

_I'm… Logan. Logan Phillips. Who're you?_

"I thought as much," he murmured, "My name is Petals Low."

_And… you're a dude? With a name like _that_?_

"Technically, I have no gender, though I do prefer being male. Being female always seems… out of place."

_Right. Of course. Out of place. That makes sense. So much sense. Not crazy at all… WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!_

"You're my host, Logan."

_Host? Shit. Shit! I've heard about that! I was in hiding from that! With Collins! Collins… Shit, Collins! Is she ok? Did they get her too?_ Images of a spunky, red-haired young woman flashed through Petals Low's mind, accompanied by images of much younger versions of her. A toddler with the same red hair and hazel eyes, squealing at the sight of a frog. A teenager with braces and a face full of freckles grinning at him over a golden retriever. A young woman with her red hair chopped chin-length, pulling him by the hand into the shade of an alley, whispering, "Let's go, Logan! If they catch us our eyes turn silver!"

_Yeah, that's her… Shit, man. They got her, didn't they? And _you're_ "they"… Damn, damn, damn! This sucks!_

"I don't know anything about your friend Collins, Logan, but this most certainly does _suck_," Petals Low muttered, standing up and stretching out his arms behind him, "Do be quiet, won't you? I won't even call the Healers if you promise to shut up."

_Healers? What the hell is a Healer? You mean a Doctor? Dude. Doctors don't help when you hear voices in your head. They lock you up for shit like that._

"You're not big on _polite_ English are you?" Petals Low asked, making his way to the closet and dragging out a black v-neck, which he pulled over his head.

_You're not big on _compassion_, are you, flower?_

"Compassion didn't exist on previous planets that I've lived on, Logan. And my name is Petals Low," he said, holding up two pairs of pants—one in each hand. He ended up discarding a pair of gray slacks for a pair of dark-washed blue jeans. He pulled at the first drawer of his dresser, sliding a thin belt around his waist. He stepped in front of the bathroom mirror, pulling a comb through his hair before glancing at his reflection, his eyes glinting silver.

_Oh, yes. Very James Bond... Can I have my body back now?_

"Ever heard of the _quiet game_, Logan? If not, I'd be happy to explain the rules."

_Touché._

Petals Low slid his wallet into his back pocket, the grabbed a set of keys off of the ring before heading out. He didn't bother to lock the door—there were no thieves among souls. He got into his car, sleek and black like most of his clothes, before driving to work. He thought for a while, now able to pinpoint Logan's consciousness in the back of his mind. He wondered why that in the three weeks he'd been on Earth, Logan had only just now decided to show himself.

_I almost wish I hadn't shown up at all, man. This _bites_._

"I _also_ wish you hadn't shown up at all," Petals Low answered evenly. He was being honest, as was the way with souls.

_Honest. Right. Because body-jacking is completely honest._

"Body-jacking is hardly the description I'd use for this," Petals Low said. At the moment he couldn't think of anything better to describe it as, however. '_Maybe body-jacking is appropriate after all,'_ Petals Low relented.

_That's what I'm sayin'!_

"Who taught you language? The word is _saying_, not _sayin'_," Petals Low muttered, irritation twitching his fingertips on the wheel. He pulled into the parking lot of his work and got out of the car, again leaving the door unlocked. Logan was silent as Petals Low opened the door to his work. The building was a modern building, built out of a lot of metal and glass, with big letters that read _Quake._ It was a club at night, though Petals Low only managed the place during the day, when it was a high-class restaurant.

_What happened to the factory?_

'_I preferred restaurant management to an assembly line,' _Petals Low thought in reply. He nodded to a passing waitress, whom smiled at him on his way to his office. He closed the door behind him and went straight to the phone, dialing the number he had written on the notepad by his computer.

_Who you callin'?_

Petals Low ignored Logan as the phone rang. And rang. Finally, a sunny voice chimed through the receiver, "Hello! You've reached Paris Dale. Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can Paris. My name is Petals Low. Remember me?" Petals Low asked, though he knew she would remember.

"Yes, of course I do! How are you Petals Low?" she asked, "Nothing is wrong, is it?"

"Well, Seeker, that's complicated. You warned me that my Host may not have faded?"

_Shit, man. You're snitching on me?_

"Logan Phillips is still there, is he?" she asked, sighing on the other line, "I was afraid of this. How soon can you come to see me? I'm at my office in San Diego, currently. Are you still living in Los Angeles?"

"I am. I can leave now, actually. Taking the day off work would be understandable, I think. In my situation," Petals Low answered.

_Situation. I'm a situation? Sweet._

"I think that would be best, Petals Low. Leave now and I'll see you in a little while," she said, before they both said their goodbyes and hung up.

_So… you snitched. What's gonna happen to me now?_

'_They're going to get rid of you.'_

_Get _rid_ of me? As in kill me? Shit, man!_

'_Kill isn't the right word, Logan. You'll just disappear. This is my body, now, after all. I would like to keep it.'_

Petals Low stood, exiting his office to speak with the alternate manager. He would tell them the truth, but he would leave out the parts about his actual situation. There was no need to worry anyone about something so trivial; especially not when the problem would be solved so soon.

_I'm a situation _and_ a problem? Is that all?_

"Pretty much," Petals Low said.

_Ouch._

'_You have no idea…'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Stephenie Mayer owns **_**The Host**_**, including its characters, places and ideas (etc). I own all of the original character, places and ideas (etc). I don't make a profit off of this.**

Paris Dales was a Seeker, assigned to Petals Low because he was placed in an adult body. Adult bodies, as of late, had been causing problems for their Souls; the hosts consciousness' weren't fading. Only a week after Petals Low had received this body, they had made it so adult bodies were unavailable for Souls to be inserted into. He was one of the last who had the chance. _'And apparently this isn't a good thing,'_ Petals Low thought, as he entered the office building of his Seeker.

_Doesn't look like it, man._

'_No one asked you.'_

"Petals Low?" the secretary chirped, blue eyes flashing silver as she looked up from her computer screen, "I'm Breathe Fire For Life. The Seeker is expecting you. Would you like me to show you the way to her office?"

"No, thank you. I'll find my own way," Petals Low said, smiling at Breathe Fire For Life as he pushed through the door into a long hallway, his eyes scanning the doors for Paris' office. When he found it, he knocked.

"Come in, please!" he heard her say, and so he did so, taking a seat in front of her desk. "Petals Low! Good to see you. I'm glad you were able to come here so soon. Was your trip ok?"

"It wasn't very far, Seeker, so my trip was fine. But if you do not mind, I would like to… discuss what I mentioned on the phone."

"About Logan?"

_No shit, Sherlock._

'_You really aren't helping anything, Logan.'_

_Never said I was tryin' to!_

"Yes. About Logan," Petals Low said aloud, "He seems to have… _returned_? It fits what you warned me about when I first came here. He has a completely separate consciousness than mine, with his own thoughts and ideas. He has not taken control of me, however, which you said would be the second step."

"That's good, at least. And you can communicate with him in your thoughts?"

"Yes."

"And for how long has this been going on for?"

Petals Low hesitated, "Only a couple of hours."

"Really? Then he found his voice a little late, I guess. That's fine. We can take care of this very easily, Petals Low. We can find you a younger host by later today and—"

"A new host? I was under the impression that this was reversible…" Petals Low said, but then he realized that they never said it was reversible, they'd said it was nothing to worry about. They said that he could solve it, should such a problem arise. He hadn't bothered to ask _how_, he'd figured he'd address the matter if it came up, "I would prefer not to become a skipper, Seeker."

"There really isn't any other option, Petals Low. Unless you would like to try to suppress him on your own… which I don't recommend. There had been a very small success rate with such a thing. Only a 20% survival rate, actually…" her voice trailed off, sounding nervous. Petals Low quickly realized why.

"_Survival_ rate? This is life-threatening?" he asked, keeping his voice even despite the irritation that such an important statistic was kept from him.

_I always knew I was deadly sexy, man!_

"I'm a afraid so. Were the host to take over, he might… well, attempt to reverse your insertion, if you understand my meaning," she said quietly, and Petals Low was silent, taking this in. She misread his silence for confusion and continued speaking, "There have been cases, such as with a host named Kevin, who took control of the body and attempted to cut the Soul out of the back of his own neck. The Soul survived, thankfully, but the poor thing was never quite the same…"

"And the only way to avoid this is to become a skipper? To jump hosts? That hardly seems fair, Paris," Petals Low said reasonably.

_Life isn't fair._

'_Shut up, Logan!'_

"I'm afraid it's your only real option, unless you want to try to suppress him on your own. Perhaps you would like to sleep on this? Spend a day ignoring Logan—see if he can even be ignored. We can speak again tomorrow, when you've thought this through," she said, her nervousness fading into a more business-like attitude.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Petals Low asked.

"Oh, yes. It takes time for the host to understand how to begin to control the body, and it requires extreme emotional duress. I think you'll be fine for a single night, Petals Low. If you're uncomfortable with being alone, however, you can always-" she would have continued to say that he could stay at a group home or with a friend or something along those lines, however, Petals Low interrupted her quickly.

"No, thank you, Paris. If you think I will be fine for a night, then I will make use of my own apartment," he said, standing up. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go as far away from this office as he possibly could, fall asleep in his bed and then wake up to discover this was all a dream.

_You should have someone pinch you. Takes less time._

"Thank you for your time, Seeker," Petals Low said darkly, though the tone was more of a reaction to Logan than any ill will toward her… or maybe it was a mixture of both.

He left the office, ignoring the secretary's cheerful goodbye on his way out the door, and then got into his car, shutting the door behind him.

_Dude. Didn't she just say to avoid emotional dur… dur-whatever. I'm pretty sure that's what this is._

'_I'm not under any emotional duress. I'm just angry. It's a simple-minded emotion and it will pass quickly.'_

_What if I decide to take over or something._

'_I dare you.'_

_What are you gonna do, flower boy? Beat me up? We're the same person, dumbass!_

'_I'm well aware that we share a body, but that does not make us the same person.'_

_It doesn't?_

'_No. It doesn't.'_

_You sure you aren't worr-_

Petals Low blasted the radio as high as he could without blowing the speakers, successfully washing out not only Logan's thought, but his own. He pulled out into the street and started for home. The scenery off the highway was beautiful, he noted. The sky was bright blue with midday sun, the grass a fresh green with large, beautiful trees placed randomly. None of the other planets he'd been on had such beautiful scenery; or maybe he'd just never had a body that could _feel_ that scenery was beautiful at all. He was a spider for two lifetimes, after all.

He was at his apartment before he knew it, but the moment he opened his door, the radio cut out and Logan cut back in.

_Christ, man! You tryin' to make us go deaf?_

'_Close. I'm trying to make you mute.'_

_Well whoopty-freaking-do! It didn't work. So don't do it again, man. And what was all that shit about the grass and the sky and shit? Are you a poet or something?_

'_You said we were the same person right?'_

_Yeah… Well, kind of. I guess._

'_Then no. I'm definitely not a poet, Logan,'_

_Oooh, _burn_!_

Petals Low rolled his eyes, entering his apartment and flicking on the television. There were no old human shows. Only the poorly acted-out Soul shows that had recently become viral. Petals Low didn't care for them much, seeing as there was no drama. He could guess everything that was going to happen in them. He wasn't engaged by the characters, and he wasn't absorbed by their half-hearted attempts at conflict. However, for the moment, anything to take his mind off Logan would do.

_It's hardly been a day and you're already tired of me?_

'_What can I day? You're one hell of a headache.'_

Petals Low would fall asleep on this couch, and when he dreamed, it was of Collins: the girl he'd never met, but always known.


End file.
